


Matcha Macarons and White Chocolate Ganache

by merryfortune



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! VRAINS
Genre: Developing Relationship, Domestic, F/M, Fluff, Indirect Kiss, Post canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:54:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27653711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merryfortune/pseuds/merryfortune
Summary: Near or far, Miyu has a sixth sense for when a friend is doing some baking and ergo, she invites herself into it.
Relationships: Spectre/Sugisaki Miyu
Comments: 6
Kudos: 9





	Matcha Macarons and White Chocolate Ganache

Miyu had a sixth sense for this sort of thing. It was better not to think about where she had acquired it or why she had acquired it, but she had it and that was the main thing. Her sixth sense was that she always knew when one of her friends was making sweets and being a busy bee always on the go, she always happened to be in the area to make a visit.

“Hi, hi!” she called out, knocking on the front door.

She waited a moment, bouncing on the heel of her foot, and she waited. She fidgeted with her hands behind her back and gasped happily when she heard footsteps. Sure enough, the front door had opened upon a very sour looking Spectre.

“Hello, Miss Sugisaki, to what do I owe the pleasure?” he asked in an imitation of a kind platitude.

“I’m just. Doin’ the rounds.” She giggled. She leaned in and sniffed the air. “Mm, that smells nice, what’re you up to?”

“If I answer that, I won’t be left alone, will I?” Spectre asked, raising an eyebrow to her.

“Nope!” she chirruped.

“I’ve got the house to myself today, Ryoken’s out visiting Yusaku so I thought I would take advantage of that and do some baking so that he would have some nice sweet treats to come home to… I’m making macarons.” Spectre explained, a touch rambling.

Miyu’s eyes lit up and Spectre grimaced. “What a surprise! I love macarons, can I pretty please come in?” she begged.

Spectre sighed. He knew that Miyu was absolutely not going to take no for an answer so he opened up the door a little bit more and his hand swept back.

“If you must.” He told her.

“I do must.” Miyu joked.

She came inside and kicked off her little runner shoes. “Pardon the intrusion…” she mumbled.

Miyu had visited the Kogami Mansion before but it never stopped being an experience of the bourgeoise. It was just so big and enormous; clean, too, and kept in the utmost post-modern sense of style. Abstract artworks on the pristinely white walls; tiles over carpet; an open floorplan. Although truth being told, it didn’t strike her as being quite to Ryoken’s aesthetic – or even Spectre’s, though the garden, immaculate and tender, was absolutely Spectre’s domain, front and back.

And although she actually knew where everything was, she still let Spectre show her around to where the kitchen was which was towards the back of the mansion. It was a gorgeous and ornate place of blue marble and white trims with an excessive number of the latest technology in cooking.

Today, it was messier than it usually was. Flour everywhere on the surfaces of the marble; bowls that hadn’t quite been cleaned sat in the sink. And of course, cooling on the stove top of the oven were the macarons that Spectre had been working on. They sat in perfectly circular discs of a dull green. They were all uniform and shiny too.

“Ooh, what flavour are they?” Miyu asked excitedly as she looked at them.

“Matcha,” Spectre replied, “I intend to fill them with white chocolate ganache which I was about to start before you rudely showed up unannounced.

“I love ganache, please, please, please, let me help.” Miyu begged.

Now, because Miyu had been around, Spectre knew that things tended to break when she was around. There had been that dinner last month, when she had arrived, it had been cold but inside the Mansion was very warm so she flung off her jacket and in doing so, a vase of flowers that Spectre had, unfortunately, nearby were destroyed in the process. That was a very expensive vase to say nothing of the desecrated flowers and when it came to the destructive force that was Sugisaki Miyu, that was easily the tip of the iceberg. If Spectre strained himself enough, he would undoubtedly conjure up a dozen more incidents and the like and he had only known the girl for perhaps six months.

However. Miyu was Miyu. All bubbly and good natured and exuberant. It was difficult to fault such a lovely and cheerful young woman. Even Spectre had to admit.

As such, Spectre swallowed a dry lump in the bottom of his throat because sure enough. There they were again already today. Miyu’s puppy dog eyes. She knew she was cute and that was the worst of it. Her irises were blue and glittering and her lower lip perfectly plump and pouting. Spectre had seen many fallen prey to this tactic of hers: Yusaku, Takeru, Ryoken, and even the hot dog vendor, Shoichi. So, he sighed with an angry hiss to under his breath.

“Fine.” Spectre replied at long last through gritted teeth.

“Yay, thank you so much, Spe-chan.” Miyu chirped.

Spectre’s skin crawled. He hated that pet name of hers so much, but he was beyond a hope of ever convincing Miyu to use anything else for him so, ruefully, he let it go.

“Have you made ganache before?” he asked.

“Uh…. Nope?” Miyu replied. “I mostly help by licking the bowls clean.”

“That is. Extremely unhygienic.” Spectre replied, revolted.

“I knowww,” Miyu whined, “but it’s just so tasty.”

“Fine.” Spectre relented once more, all on guard and up on his hackles with her. “I’ll let you chip away the leftovers with a spoon but if I see any tongue, Miss Sugisaki-”

“Aww, thank you, again Spe-chan, now, c’mon, make with the ganache so I can make with the teaspoon.” Miyu interrupted him.

Spectre glared but he stepped away from her. He took a breath and he tried to pick up where he had left off before Miyu had come along and interrupted him. He tried to relax but Miyu hovered, most curious about what he was doing. She put her finger on her mouth and Spectre could already tell that it was watering with the idea of eating the scrap ganache. He frowned.

“Are you sure you don’t want to do something more productive than just standing and staring?” he asked. “Perhaps, learning to make ganache? I can’t imagine that your overly gifted at baking or other culinary arts.”

Miyu laughed. “No, you’re right. I suck at cooking. But I don’t want to inconvenience you…”

“Miss Sugisaki,” Spectre began breathlessly, “you have already done that. Surely I can teach you to do something small in the kitchen.”

Miyu grinned. “You’re a lot sweeter than you seem.” she said. “So, if you don’t mind, I’m in your care.” She poked her tongue out at him.

Spectre rolled his eyes. “Here, I’ll melt the chocolate and add the cream, you can whisk it.” He said.

“Sounds fun.” Miyu chirruped.

Miyu watched as Spectre moved his macaron tray to where she stood. He gave her a sharp glare and she gave her scout’s honour in reply that she wouldn’t eat any of the unfrosted macaron shells. Spectre intended to keep as good as eye as he could on her with those whilst he turned on the stove, the red rings lighting up and he returned to the kitchen bench. He piled in chopped up white chocolate into a small saucepan and he moved it over to the stove.

Miyu hovered and was fascinated to observe how the white chocolate melted. He stirred it slightly, moving the chunks around on the bottom.

“Miss Sugisaki, could you do me a small favour?” he asked, still stirring it slightly.

“Yes, sir.” Miyu replied.

“Would you like to melt the butter for me? Its already measured out and sitting in the cup over there, thirty seconds should do.” Spectre said.

“Easy-peasy lemon-squeezy.” Miyu replied.

Spectre hummed. Yes, he supposed, however this was Miyu, but it was something as simple as warming up the already set out to soften butter. But, unfortunately, Miyu was Miyu and was quick to prove Spectre very wrong.

He listened to the tick, tick, tick of the microwave after Miyu pressed buttons and had it slam shut. He also listened to how Miyu hummed the tune of some fluffy pop song all wrong, but he didn’t mind that either as he stirred the melting white chocolate. He glanced up at the microwave – fourteen seconds on the clock – and turned off the stove. He moved the saucepan to the colder zone of the stove and then there was a massive noise from inside the microwave.

Spectre jumped out of his skin – and so did Miyu. He turned his head like a meerkat and glared.

“What was that?” he asked.

Miyu got up on her tiptoes as she opened up the microwave. Her expression was grotesque with fear – most of it self-inflicted – as the door of the microwave swung out. Spectre drew in closer to her, leaning over her as he peered inside the microwave with a loosened glare. His jaw dropped.

“How in the world did you manage that?” he asked.

“I have no idea…” Miyu warbled, crocodile tears in her eyes.

Melted butter had splattered all around the inside of the microwave and inside the cup, some of it had charred on the meniscus. Reaching in to take out the cup, Spectre had to recoil as the microwave-proofed plastic was far hotter than he expected. He shot Miyu a dirty and annoyed look.

“I’ll clean this up but if we’re lucky, if we take out the – burnt? – bits, we should still have enough to put in the ganache, to say nothing of the cream we have to add as well…” Spectre replied.

“Thank you.” Miyu said. “Ooh, ooh, can I add the butter and cream?”

Spectre was… dubious to say the least. If she could explode and burn butter in the microwave, goodness knows what else was capable of doing but she looked so eager to please, to atone for her mistake. In good faith, Spectre couldn’t discount that, so he sighed a most beleaguered sigh.

“It shouldn’t take me all that long to clean the microwave, just add in the butter and get the cream from the refrigerator. Put them in the saucepan and then do nothing further until I can supervise.” Spectre instructed.

“Roger.” Miyu replied, chirping, with a salute.

Spectre felt long suffering, but he let her be. He went over to beneath the sink and got out some cleaning products. Fortunately, whilst he did so, there were no major incidents. Miyu poured in the remaining melted butter and then sought the cream from the refrigerator.

“Which one are we using?” she called out whilst Spectre was wiping down the microwave.

“The thickened cream with the blue label.” Spectre replied.

Miyu gasped. “But, that’s like, a gourmet brand!”

“Yes, I know. Perhaps you haven’t noticed but we’re quite well off, you know.” Spectre snarked at her.

Miyu laughed as he took the bottle out of the refrigerator. It was very nicely organised and strangely pleasing on the eyes. She took it back to the stove and stood beside Spectre. He was just about finished cleaning, it appeared. Miyu, meanwhile, unscrewed the lid and poured it out to the saucepan. She tapped the bottom a couple times to get those last couple drops before fingering the rim.

“Do not.” Spectre scolded her without even looking at her.

“Too late.” Miyu sassed him as she sucked cream off her finger.

“Go wash your hands.” he instructed her.

“Alright.” she droned.

Miyu totted off and Spectre finished cleaning up the microwave. When she returned to his side, still flicking off soap suds off her hands, he had already discarded the disposable wipe that he had been using. Still, they had synchronised well.

“So, what’s next?” Miyu asked, bright-eyed.

“Whisking the ganache.” Spectre said.

“Can I help with that as well?” Miyu asked.

“…Fine.” Spectre replied.

Miyu reached for the tin containing various wooden spoons and whisks. Her fingers grazed one, but Spectre made a discontented noise, so she made a different selection. He then stood aside and Miyu came closer. She put the whisk in the beginnings of the ganache and cautiously glanced up at Spectre.

“Can I start?” she asked.

“Yes, go ahead.” Spectre permitted her.

Miyu began but she was rather clunky at it. The ganache was thicker than she thought it would be, clotted with cream and partially melted white chocolate. The butter was runny though, even if it was flecked with a little bit of black. But Miyu persevered, she grunted and stuck out her tongue as she did her best to Spectre’s utter displeasure.

“Here, let me show you.” Spectre groaned.

He stepped behind her and slotted his hands effortlessly around her body. Miyu could feel her temperature rise as Spectre’s right hand trailed along her arm before cupping her hand and as he put his left on her waist. She became quite malleable for him which was perfect as he tried to correct how she whisked. With his help, the ganache didn’t seem quite so dauntingly thick.

“You have to be firm but gentle, we don’t want to over-whisk…” Spectre murmured in her ear.

“Y-Yes, I get it now.” Miyu piped up.

“Good.” Spectre smiled – smirked, really.

Miyu’s hand was shaky as Spectre propped her up but still, she was amazed as she watched the ingredients of the ganache thicken and combine. It was all stirred in until it was to Spectre’s liking. When he finally let go of Miyu, she felt like she could breathe but her heart was pounding so quickly anyway. She was a little bit flushed too but as Spectre stepped away from her, Miyu was certain she could mask it as excitement.

“So,” she said, bouncing on her heel, vibrating, “we get to ice the macarons now, yeah?”

“No.” Spectre said as he took the saucepan away from her.

“Aww.” Miyu complained, visibly deflating.

“We need to let it chill for a few minutes, but it won’t take that long.” Spectre assured her.

“Okay.” She replied, shrugging.

Miyu then plodded over to the breakfast bar, getting up on one of the high stools and took out her phone. Spectre, however, did as he said he would do and set aside the saucepan in the refrigerator. He had to shuffle a few things around though to make it fit, but it worked regardless. He checked his wristwatch and made a mental calculation of how long he had to wait – at least the macarons were going to be very thoroughly cooled by the time to ice – but the other issue was what to do with her although, glancing at her, Miyu seemed quite content to play on her phone.

She looked up excitedly, “Oh, oh, Spe-chan you gotta look at this.”

Spectre sighed through his nose, a grimace dipping down between his brows. He could not say that he was overly fond of those words strung together in that specific sentence and especially not from Miyu’s mouth, but he adhered to how she beckoned him closer. He put his hands on the breakfast bar and looked over her shoulder. She, in turn, thrust her phone up to his face.

“Look, it’s you.” Miyu giggled.

Spectre pulled himself away from how closely Miyu had shoved her phone in his face. He looked like an old person, squinting, as he rewound the seven second video of a ferret sleeping in a potted plant, rousing only slightly so that it could yawn before settling its face back in the dirt. He was just thankful that it wasn’t some meme or something mean-spirited.

“Thanks.” Spectre huffed.

“I can find more videos like that, if you like.” Miyu replied.

“I’m quite right, thank you.” Spectre deflected her.

“Okay, if you say so, but how’re you gonna keep yourself entertained whilst the ganache cools?” she asked.

“I left the novel I’ve been reading in the living room, I’ll just fetch it and read a chapter or so if it, after that, we can ice the macarons.” Spectre explained.

“Oh, okay.” Miyu smiled.

She kept scrolling her preferred social media feed whilst Spectre ducked out to grab his novel. Miyu hummed to herself, sometimes chuckling, and sometimes frowning but Spectre returned. He sat next to her on the stood beside her. He opened up his book and Miyu stole a glance at the title. She couldn’t see all of it, but she snatched the words “attic” and “flowers” but not necessarily in that order.

They were quiet for a few minutes. Comfortably quiet or at least debatably so. Spectre didn’t mind it but Miyu was a chatterbox. Silence was unbearable for her but not for him. She stole another glance at his book before deciding to try and search it in her browser.

“Are you enjoying it?” Miyu asked in an oddly rusty voice.

“I am, all things considered.” Spectre sternly replied. “The prose is a bit juvenile, in my opinion, but I like the characters.”

“That’s good.” Miyu murmured.

“Are you enjoying scrolling mindlessly?” Spectre asked and he glanced at her, quirking a brow.

“Not particularly, hey, do you wanna-?”

“Read to you?” Spectre finished her sentence for her.

She nodded her head. “Yes, please…”

“If you insist. And just know, I’m going to pick up where I left off and I won’t be explaining the details you’ve missed.” Spectre continued.

Miyu giggled. She couldn’t imagine Spectre doing anything less for her, but she encouraged him to read to her regardless. She smiled, setting down her phone, as Spectre read to her aloud. He had a nice voice, Miyu thought to herself as she stared at him, listening. Though he made no effort to differentiate dialogue from narration, or even characters among themselves, Miyu enjoyed listening to the end of the chapter.

“I’m thirsty now.” Spectre commented as he placed his bookmark between the pages and shut the book.

“I can go fetch you a glass, if you like.” Miyu offered. “As thanks.”

“If you promise not to break anything…” Spectre replied, sounding starchy.

“Cross my heart, hope to die, stick a needle in my eye.” she vowed.

“Okay, if you know where everything is-”

“I do.” Miyu interjected brightly.

“Good, and whilst you’re at it, you can get the ganache out of the refrigerator as well.” Spectre replied.

“Got it.” Miyu chirped.

Spectre was uncertain as to whether or not he should supervise her or if he should open up his book again. He decided upon the former and under his gaze, no incident happened, thankfully. Miyu set aside the saucepan first, putting it on the bench next to the refrigerator and then scouted out a glass for Spectre to drink from. She soon came back to him at the main breakfast bar where she set both the saucepan and glass of water in front of him. Holding both, one by the thick of it and one by the handle, Spectre had held his breath, but it was all for a naught worry.

“Thank you, Miss Sugisaki.” Spectre politely told her as he got up. “Do you want to help me ice them?”

“Nope.” Miyu replied. “I’m the clean-up, remember?”

Spectre scowled. His skin crawled. “Yes, yes, unfortunately I remember.”

“So, I’m just happy to watch with bated breath as you ice all those really tasty looking macaron shells.” Miyu drawled, her mouth was watering.

“I get the picture, Little Miss Bottomless Pit for a Stomach.” Spectre sassed her.

Miyu giggled but then watched with eager delight as Spectre got an ice-cream scoop up and a piping bag. Spectre filled it up and cut off the end by the tiniest snippet. He tested out a dollop and then a cut. Miyu was curious as he went through his process until he was satisfied with how the ganache was piping out.

Spectre moved onto piping the ganache from his test baking paper to the actual macarons. He was the very image of grace and precision as he did so. Miyu had never thought such a thing could be breathtaking or elegant but Spectre’s innate theatricality easily superseded that. Soon, every shell was paired up and uniform, plump with ganache and upon inspecting the piping bag, Spectre discovered enough leftovers to make Miyu happy.

Her eyes were all lit up as she looked among the macarons. She couldn’t find a single flaw among them. Oh, they just looked so cute and precious. She looked up at Spectre.

“Can I…?” she asked hopefully.

“Yes, you may.” Spectre replied, doing his best not to sound exasperated.

“Yay!” Miyu replied.

She was far too quick to snavel up a macaron from the middle of the top row that was closest to her. Spectre watched as how it simply disappeared but Miyu melted. She sighed happily as she savoured the taste of the macaron on her tongue. She smiled a dreamy smile. The matcha flavour was incredibly clear and well defined; conveying a sort of umami-like sweetness that was complemented, not overpowered, by the white chocolate ganache. It had an almond-like undercurrent from the almond meal that Spectre would have used to make the macaron shell but there was something else to it. Something unexpected infused in the macaron.

“Is that… lemon that I taste?” she asked, sneakily reaching over to the plate for seconds.

“Correct.” Spectre replied as he bopped her hands before she could take another macaron. “I enjoy lemon with my green tea so I thought I would try infusing some lemon juice in with the mixture, I’m glad it works.”

“Oh, it does, it does! Its amazing!” Miyu cried out.

“That’s good to know.” Spectre said and he produced a teaspoon for her. “Here, your reward for all your, er, hard work, shall we say.”

“Thank you.” Miyu replied.

Unlike with how Miyu snatched up the macaron, she was more polite with how she took the spoon from Spectre. Her fingers brushed over hers as she tried to take it off him. For a moment, Spectre wondered if he ought to irk her back and hold it too firm for her to take but instead, he let go. Seeing her smile like that – all heart through the stomach – warmed him, for a reason which barely escaped him.

Miyu squeezed out as much ganache as she could onto the teaspoon. Until it was piled upon piles and the piping back was all scrunched up in her hand. She then happily licked off where the ganache threatened to spill before just shoving it all in her face. Spectre couldn’t be more horrified by such poor table manners, but he attempted to lighten up. At least she was having fun, he tried to console himself as the spoon popped out.

“Aren’t you going to have one?” she asked. “A macaron, I mean.”

“I’ll have some after dinner, once Ryoken’s come home.” Spectre replied.

“Suit yourself, they’re really good. This ganache is so nice. You really should taste it.” Miyu said.

She scraped her teaspoon against the saucepan. She collected up as much of the white chocolate ganache as she could and then offered it up to Spectre. She had an expectant face as she cupped the teaspoon below, intent to catch – and likely lick up – whatever fell if it did.

Spectre exhaled through his nose and leaned in. Miyu made an excited noise as she fed him some of the leftover ganache. He smiled to himself. He knew instinctively that he had done a good job with the ganache but tasting it confirmed it. Miyu was right, it was very good, but he preferred not to snack as it drew late into the afternoon. Besides, he would have to start thinking about dinner – and shooing Miyu off before she got any big ideas about inviting herself to dinner.

He let go and smiled. “I haven’t got anything on my face?” he asked.

“Er… Nope.” Miyu replied, checking closely on his face from where she sat.

“That’s good,” Spectre replied and then he added on, “Do you want a little goodie bag of macarons to take home with you?”

“Oh boy do I.” Miyu all too quickly replied with a huge smile on her face.

Spectre laughed at her earnestness. It was rather adorable, he thought as he tottered around, looking to see if he had anything more exciting to gift wrap a couple of macarons for her than just a brown paper bag. He was strangely fond in his search, for Miyu especially, but alas, that was all he could find. He was gentle as he placed three macarons inside of it and then crumbled the top.

“Enjoy.” he said. “Just promise me that you won’t eat them all at once. At least try to savour them.”

Miyu beamed as he accepted the bag of macarons gratefully. “I promise.”


End file.
